


Ghosts

by vivi1138



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Gen, Ghosts, Horcruxes, House Elves, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Character Death, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2019-10-17 20:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17567048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivi1138/pseuds/vivi1138
Summary: Regulus Black wakes up a few years after his death and decides to make the best of his situation. If it means helping his estranged brother and raising a child, well, he'll just have to try.





	1. The Cave

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all,
> 
> I started posting this in summer 2018 on FF.net under the account "jayna1138". Be warned: updates will be very slow.
> 
> I'm not a native speaker, so I'm sorry for my grammar.
> 
> As far as pairings go, I haven't chosen yet, and there might not be any. Enjoy!

The ceiling looks like water. Regulus Arcturus Black squints and reaches out to touch the ripples above his face, but he can't feel their texture on his fingers. He frowns. Shadows surround him, strange shapes moving ever so slowly. Some of them have a face.

Now Regulus' eyes are wide open, and he stands up. Or he tries to. Instead of putting pressure on his knees and bending his legs, he shoots up and floats. He's not sure what he's seeing or where he is, but he understands he woke up in the water. That ceiling was not a ceiling at all. He also notices that he can see, but he knows it's pitch black around him. So, he somehow developed night vision. Interesting.

He looks down at his body and finds himself shimmering. A white glow shimmers around him; the tip of his fingers is almost sparkling. More than that, he can see a stone basin through the hand he's holding at eye level.

Now he realises he hasn't tried to breathe yet. He's still floating, and he doesn't feel his body. There is a nasty gash on his right thigh which should be bleeding and should hurt. He pokes it and doesn't feel any pain. He can touch his own body, but he can't explore his environment. His gaze falls on the stone basin once more, and he remembers.

He remembers Kreacher, the Dark Lord, his shaken beliefs. He sees the dark skull and the snake on his forearm, part of it torn away by what looks like claw marks.

Claws. Inferi. Horcrux. He betrayed the Dark Lord and died trying to rid the world of him, after seeing him for what he was.

The Dark Lord had been fascinating. He had appeared like a saviour for their traditions, a saviour for magic itself. His lineage blinded followers and supporters alike. Who better to restore long lost traditions and protect their world against barbaric Muggles, than the descendant of Salazar Slytherin? He spoke with a passion that ignited a fire in all those who shared his beliefs. Most of Regulus' family was too proud of their name to worship the ground he walked on, but they approved of his ideas wholeheartedly. This, of course, excluded his cousin Bellatrix, who considered the Dark Lord to be a god. But she had always been unhinged.

When Regulus was recruited, his mother told him she was proud of him for the first time. He felt validated and essential; he had a purpose. Then came the darkness.

Regulus had never killed anyone before. He had delusions about what his life would be like as a Death Eater and hoped to join the Inner Circle. That was before he took the Mark.

To be branded required the cold-blooded murder of an innocent. Regulus started having second thoughts and struggled to raise his wand.

The Dark Lord gained power quickly. His minions swept Britain to get rid of the unworthy, the dirty, the blood traitors. He killed Purebloods. He murdered his followers in anger, or for fun. None of them mattered to him. Regulus often thought about defecting, but he knew he would have nowhere to go, and he was terrified.

When the Dark Lord gave Slytherin's locket to Kreacher to hide, Regulus understood. No family was better versed in the Dark Arts than the Black family. Not even the Malfoys. The young man knew what made the Dark Lord immortal, and it filled him with dread.

A horcrux.

So, he went to the cave, stole the locket, and died.

He remembers all of it now.

The lake below his feet is filled with the things that dragged him under the surface, tore his body apart and drowned him. He wonders if he can still talk: he screamed enough to destroy his own voice, or so he thinks.

"Of course, I can still talk, I'm dead," he tries, just in case.

His voice doesn't have an echo. He wonders if he can get out of there and hopes he's not stuck, because it would be a terrible place to haunt. He flies across the eerily still and dark waters, towards the door that can only be opened with blood. When he passes through the stone, he lets relief flood him, and finally looks around.

Perhaps he only died an hour ago, he's not sure. He has no concept of time. It's still night outside, and it was sunset when he entered the cave, so it can't have taken that long.

He calls for Kreacher and is not surprised when he doesn't show up. He floats alongside the cliff's edge and wishes he could smell the sea and feel the wind on his face. Suddenly, he's overwhelmed by such a mix of emotions that he can't help but gasp. It's only a sound since he doesn't breathe, but the effect remains. He knows he would be crying if he was alive. Actually, he _is_ crying, he just doesn't feel his tears on his cheeks. He recognises the blur.

He made it. He might be dead, but he's still here. He can make sure Kreacher destroys the locket and do his very best to end the Dark Lord's reign. Perhaps this is why he didn't move on. Unfinished business.

He only needs to speak to the living. Elated, he smiles, and his body starts spinning. He has no idea why. When he finally stills, he's glad he can't be sick.

"First things first," he mutters, "find another ghost."

He needs to know everything about his ghostly body, what he can do, and as he ponders the use of magic in his situation, he finds his wand in his hand. It glows like its core died with him. It's possible, but it doesn't make sense. Wands wouldn't be passed on after their master's death if their magic was lost with them. He has never seen a ghost with a wand before, but he has to admit he never paid attention. Perhaps his wand was unique and chose him for all eternity. Ollivander would know.

Regulus' next step is to apparate. Which he can still do, apparently: in front of him stands Hogwarts. There's a pull in his chest and the castle calls to him.

He hopes he won't get stuck there. Why every ghost but him is tied to one place is another detail he needs to figure out. Or are they indeed bound? They must be. If not, why did Moaning Myrtle choose to dwell in the girls' toilets?

By the time he reaches the gate, he's not alone anymore. There is a Thestral following him. Regulus stops and touches the creature, finding it beautiful under the moonlight. His lips stretch into a wide smile when he feels its warmth under his fingers. He can at least touch one living being. The Thestral sees him and nuzzles at his neck. Regulus laughs.

Being dead isn't too bad so far.

"Regulus Black. Welcome."

He immediately recognises the Bloody Baron's voice. The ghost of Slytherin never speaks to anyone, but the students of his own house and his raspy voice is unforgettable. The young man's throat gives the illusion of swallowing. The Baron is standing on the doorstep, the massive double door behind him is closed. He extends a hand, an invitation to enter.

The Thestral stays behind, and Regulus swears it's pouting.

When he enters, he finally feels something. He's sure it's the magic of Hogwarts that makes his skin tingle and warms him up. He wants to cry once again but refrain from doing so this time, because there are so many ghosts in front of him that he's taken aback. He had no idea how haunted the school was.

Nearly-Headless Nick salutes him, pulling his head off his neck and making him wince slightly. Thankfully, Regulus is a Slytherin, and a true Black: hiding his emotions is in his blood. The Friar is the first ghost to pat him on the shoulder and just like with the Thestral, Regulus can feel it. He notices the beautiful spirit of Ravenclaw Tower behind the translucent crowd and regrets not spending more time talking with the dead when he was a student. She looks sad, and he wants to know why.

He barely hears the conversations around him when the pull manifests itself again. He decides to follow it later.

In the next hours, until the sun rises above the fog, he obtains answers:

\- He's still here because he chose to stay. They tell him that, and he's confused because he just woke up and doesn't remember being asked for his opinion.

\- He can touch things and beings that were themselves touched by Death. These beings can, in turn, see him while he's still invisible to the rest of the world. Speaking of being invisible, because he's a new ghost, his form is still basic, so he won't be seen by most wizards. Little by little, he'll be visible to children and animals, then adults.

\- He might turn into a Poltergeist if he lets anger control him or if he actively refuses to accept his condition. But, they tell him, if his soul hasn't been darkened too much, becoming Peeves' best friend won't make him cruel. He's not so sure about the stain he possesses. He has killed in the name of a lunatic after all.

\- He shouldn't concern himself with the affairs of the living. Tough luck, he thinks, because that's precisely what he intends to do.

\- He's not haunting the cave because he has no attachment to it. Myrtle stayed in the bathroom since it was her refuge when she was bullied. Regulus might get stuck somewhere later on. If he does, he hopes it won't be a toilet.

\- He might be able to do magic. Nobody ever died with their wand following them into the afterlife.

Then, he learns he's been dead for two years. Today is November 2nd, 1981, and the Dark Lord has been defeated.

"I'm sorry, I must have misheard you," he asks, blinking in surprise. "You said the Dark Lord died?"

Did Kreacher destroy the Horcrux? Did he even know how? Regulus forbade him from telling anyone after all. But if he did, why is he even here? Why did he wake up?

"Everyone in the school is talking about it. Frontpage news. Happened on Halloween," a gruff, unknown ghost explains.

He finds the idea of looking for a Daily Prophet distasteful, so he decides to seek the most accurate source: Dumbledore.

The crowd of ghosts disperses when children start to roam the hallways. Regulus floats up the stairs until he finds the familiar Gargoyle. He has only been to Dumbledore's office once, unlike his brother who might as well have called it home.

"-wards," the old wizard sighs, and Regulus curses under his non-existent breath as the Phoenix looks straight at him.

McGonagall's expression is icy. She huffs, and her attitude reminds him of a prank gone wrong when he was in third year. How Sirius only got a fifty points deduction, he doesn't know. The Marauders would have been expelled if they had been in Slytherin, but the Headmaster had a soft spot for them. He stops his mind from wandering and focuses on the living.

"What if they hurt him?" the severe Transfiguration Professor hisses. "Blood wards keep enemies out. What of the ones already inside?"

"Now, Minerva, he's their nephew. Of course, they'll take care of him. Perhaps they won't spoil him, but they will provide him with food and shelter."

"He's a baby, Albus! He needs love and care, and these people are not fit to raise a child!"

"Yet they already have a boy of their own. You must understand. There is no choice."

"Who else is on the will, Albus?"

"There is no will. Harry James Potter will be raised by his family, and when the time comes, Hogwarts will welcome him. He needs to grow up away from the fame and from those who would use him. We cannot have him raised by the likes of Malfoy."

Something in McGonagall's eyes tells Regulus she doesn't believe a word he says. He's also even more confused now. There is nothing more to learn here, so the ghost roams the castle and listens to every word he hears and lets himself appreciate the carefree smiles and laughter of these kids who just saw the end of a war.

At the end of the day, an accurate picture of events is painted in his mind, and it's a complete coincidence if the pull he's been fighting against all day drags him in front of Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem. Which he can touch, unlike every other item in the strange room he discovered. It's a Horcrux, and now Regulus can only laugh like a madman, without the slightest hint of joy. How twisted, how monstrous can the Dark Lord be, if he created more than one of the vilest artefact on record? How many more of these will he find?

He needs Kreacher, and he needs his older brother.


	2. Azkaban

Time flies by, or it doesn't, Regulus isn't sure. All he knows is that teleporting to another person is much, much harder than Apparating to a fixed location. The Hogwarts ghosts help him as much as they can, especially when he finds himself spinning out of control because he still can't figure out what causes his body to act on its own. He also finds out how Sirius and his friends got around the castle so sneakily when he floats through a wall and finds a secret passage.

He finds them all within a week.

The first time he sees Severus, he's both confused and impressed. He wants to learn how to do the same dramatic effect with a cloak. Severus looks even more depressed than he used to when he's not trying to scare children in a classroom. He's thinner and much paler, and his clothes make him look like a bat. Regulus can't believe what he sees when he realises he's the new Potion Professor. He was a highly favoured Death Eater, and there is no way Dumbledore doesn't know.

Regulus talks to every ghost he comes across. He finds out they don't linger in cemeteries, except for a scary, bitter old woman from the Victorian Era who tries to hit him with her spectral cane. Her tombstone reads, "She hated everyone and everything". He thinks it's fitting. She reminds him of an old portrait in his childhood home.

The snow has come and gone when he finally lays his eyes on his brother's face again. And it's so far from what he expected, that he wonders if he didn't wake up in a parallel universe.

He looks around. There is a bare cot on the stone floor. Brick walls enclose the man who eats a repulsive gruel with shaking hands.

Azkaban. His brother is in Azkaban. A loud "why?" escapes his lips before he can stop himself, but Sirius doesn't react.

"I don't understand," Regulus whispers again. "What did you do?"

Last he heard, Sirius was in Auror training with Potter, so his imprisonment is probably due to sheer stupidity. Like being an unregistered Animagus, or-

"Ah," he thinks, eyes widening slightly when his brother does indeed turn into a massive black dog after his empty bowl vanishes.

Animagus it is.

Or public indecency, who knows.

The dog pats the cot and whines. Then he raises his fluffy head and stares straight at Regulus. His whine dies in his throat, his jaw slackens, and he looks like he was just petrified. It's a rather funny expression for a dog. Regulus grins and waves. He hoped Animagi could see him, and he's happier than he has been in a long time.

Sirius turns back into his human form and shakes his head, then mutters about going crazy much quicker than he thought possible. He transforms again and seems baffled when he finds out Regulus is still there.

"Hi Sirius," the ghost says, still grinning.

The dog pounces and goes right through him, but he's now wagging his tail so much it's almost a blur. He keeps trying, and this must be the first time he's feeling anything other than despair in his cell. Regulus hopes his joy won't alert the Dementors because he has no idea what effect they would have on him. Would they swallow his entire being? Nothing happens though, and Sirius tires himself out. He lays on the cot, his eyes fixed on Regulus' face.

"I guess I'll do the talking then. Or you can turn back, but then you can't hear me."

The dog doesn't move, so Regulus starts talking.

He tells him about the Horcrux, about his death and how he came back. He speaks of the ghosts of Hogwarts, his wand, and what he's trying to accomplish. When Sirius turns back, he closes his eyes and leans against the cold brick wall. Then it's his turn to talk, and Regulus listens with increased worry and anger. His regrets taste so bitter in his mouth, or he thinks they do, because he can't taste anything anymore as far as he knows.

He learns about the prophecy, about the child Dumbledore spoke of, and about the trial his brother is still waiting for. When Sirius starts coughing, his voice tired, Regulus has a plan. Or the beginnings of one.

The dog is back to hear him talk once more, so the spirit shares.

Sirius growls when Regulus mentions he'll need Kreacher for most of it, but his brother narrows his eyes and the sound turns into a whine.

"I can't waltz into the Wizengamot and get you out on my own," he patiently explains. Sirius was always impulsive; sometimes talking to him as if he were nine years old seems wise. "And if McGonagall is right, your godson might need help, and I can't exactly take care of a baby."

Kreacher is a loyal elf, and he'll do anything Regulus asks. Unfortunately, Regulus already tried getting into Grimmauld Place. For some reason, there is one ward he can't get through, so he's stuck until another family member calls the old servant. Kreacher won't answer Sirius' call. He wouldn't even hear it, otherwise, every Azkaban inmate would use their elf.

"I need Grandfather," he continues. The dog rolls his eyes.

Arcturus Black is one of the toughest men Regulus knows, and he has no idea what he thinks of Sirius' Gryffindor tendencies. It's been years since the old man last set foot outside. His family only knew he was alive because his portrait was not activated before Regulus died, and because the tapestry didn't update.

Perhaps he's deceased now.

What Regulus does know, however, is that the last time he heard him talk, in the mid-'70s, Arcturus argued with his son Cygnus about the Dark Lord's request to join the Death Eaters or offer financial support to his cause. Regulus remembers that while Arcturus believed in blood purity, his pride was stronger. A Black bows to no one, he said.

He also said he did not trust a Dark Lord who appeared out of nowhere and did not have proof of his ancestry, hiding his actual name as if he were ashamed of it. Parseltongue did not mean he was descended from Slytherin; otherwise hundreds of wizards in India could claim the same blood ties. Then there were whispers, and Arcturus heard them often enough to wonder why his son denied them. He suspected Obliviation, or another manipulation to hide inconvenient truths. Because if rumours were to be believed, the Dark Lord was none other than the son of a Muggle. He would be Tom Riddle, who revealed his ancestry and gained a following at Hogwarts in the 1940s.

Even if he happened to tell the truth, he was not a pureblood.

At the time, Regulus was too blind to agree with Arcturus. He was also desperate to please his mother, to undo the harm and shame Sirius brought upon their name, and to be worth _something_ that he dismissed his grandfather's claims and happily took the Dark Mark.

"I'll come back," he eventually says. The dog whines once more but doesn't turn into Sirius.

A Dementor floats nearby, and Regulus vanishes before he gets an unwanted answer to the question "am I Dementor food?"

0-o-0

There's a very annoying ward protecting Black Manor in Wiltshire. It's not nasty like the one at Grimmauld Place, which made Regulus' non-existant skin crawl. It's just specifically designed to trap trespassers who manage to get past the other wards. This includes ghosts. And because Arcturus has turned into a hermit, Regulus stays suspended in the same position for three days before the patriarch notices something unusual.

He might be old, but he is still terrifying. He resets the ward and traps Regulus further, with a non-verbal spell that would undoubtedly be useful against Peeves. The beam of light looks like black lightning. Regulus has never seen it before.

"I do not appreciate uninvited guests," Lord Black drawls, and Regulus feels like he's five years old and just got caught in the darker section of the family library. "Show yourself!"

Regulus wants to but attempting it would be a waste of energy. More spells are thrown at him, designed to reveal humans, creatures, transfigured items and animals. Arcturus is furious, and the spells get darker until he finally realises that Regulus is not hiding under the fabled Death's cloak.

Regulus can't move much, but he can still crouch, so he decides to use his wand. Only, he does so in an unexpected way, surprising even himself.

He writes his name in the dirt, his wand acting like a mere stick. This simple act requires such a tremendous effort that he decides against writing anything else.

When he looks at his grandfather's face once more, he thinks he sees an emotion on his face, but it's gone before he can identify it.

Then Lord Black turns around and leaves, and Regulus is still stuck, and he decides he hates everything.

It takes more than a day before the severe man comes back, disables the spell that effectively acted like a spiderweb, and allows the ghost inside the house. Regulus keeps reminding himself that he needs help, so he doesn't just leave, because right now he would probably enjoy becoming a Hogwarts ghost forever.

Black Manor is a beautiful home. It doesn't look like its walls could be housing corpses, the windows are wide and the colour scheme easy on the eyes. It reminds Regulus of Malfoy Manor, without its marble statues and its screeching peacocks. The Black family is the wealthiest in Britain but doesn't make it their priority to shove it in other people's faces. On the other hand, Regulus feels like the manor is almost sterile and his grandfather's loneliness lurks in every corner.

He is led to the parlour, and a ward once again prevents him from moving when the door closes. But when the mirror in front of him reveals him to Arcturus, the binding spell relaxes then lets him go.

Regulus knows this mirror well, because it reveals the unseen, and it terrified him when he was a child. Sirius thought it would be funny to check what hid under their beds at night when they stayed at the manor for the holidays before Arcturus exiled himself. His brother found the mirror, used it, and both screamed and cried for hours.

There was something under the bed, and Regulus doesn't want to remember it.

Arcturus mutters a spell. The mirror shimmers.

"Speak," he orders.

When Regulus does, his voice comes out of the mirror.

He talks.


	3. House Elves

Arcturus is nothing if efficient and thorough. So thorough, that the first days of summer are upon them when he is ready to act. Regulus is glad that the house elves can now hear him: he can tell them when to check on the old man if he gets lost in his research until late at night. It wouldn't do to see him die when there's so much at stake.

The ghost starts reading the latest finds on his grandfather's dark wooden desk. The office is well-lit, its walls are hidden behind high bookshelves, and the translucent curtains float gently with the morning breeze passing through the open window. Arcturus went to bed at dawn.

Regulus still can't touch anything, but he can use magic now. It feels like being a first-year at Hogwarts all over again: learning to use his ghostly wand from scratch. Spells don't work like they used to: they need to be non-verbal, and if Regulus even thinks about the words, he fails. It's a brand-new way to perform magic, and he doesn't even mind. He was so happy when he managed to levitate something for the first time since his death, that he briefly became visible, scaring a house elf (and his grandfather, who was not expecting to ever see him outside the boundaries of the mirror. Arcturus merely raised an eyebrow to hide his surprise, but Regulus heard him mutter about it later).

Confident in what used to be _Wingardium Leviosa_ , he can now read books. He can do pretty much everything he needs, just because he's able to make objects fly. He's not good at _Accio_ yet, so he needs to be near the item he's levitating if he wants to use it, but he likes it anyway.

The first stack of parchment he digs into today concerns Arcturus' progress with Sirius' trial. It's evident that someone is trying to sweep it under the rug, so Arcturus wants to wait until most of the Death Eaters are convicted. It would seem there's no trial left on the agenda, and Arcturus is ready to move.

Regulus' magic lifts the parchments, and with a strong push of magic that definitely should not take that much effort, he moves them to the side.

What he finds under them is not parchment, and there's a picture that doesn't move: Muggle paper, and a Muggle photograph of a small house with an address at the bottom. Frowning, Regulus wonders what Arcturus was looking for, until he reads the note on the top left corner, written with a quill: Location/Family HJP. This is the research Regulus did not believe he would ever have help with.

Somehow, Arcturus has hidden his disgust to contact people in the Muggle world. Regulus barely mentioned the fact that his brother was the baby's godfather, confident that the old man wouldn't care, but he was wrong. Perhaps this is a way to force Sirius into his role as Lord Black once he's exonerated. Arcturus never acts if he gets nothing out of it after all.

The white paper gives the child's address, but Regulus has no idea how it was discovered. His grandfather must have hired someone to find it.

"Tilly!" he calls, and a house elf with one single curly hair on her head appears. Being able to call the creatures is death-changing. He's still reluctant to call Kreacher until everything Arcturus is working on is sorted.

"What can Tilly do for Little Master?" she squeaks, looking around because she can't see him. She's still not over the part where Regulus is not only an adult but a dead one. She says he isn't even 20 years old, so he's a child. He gave up arguing after an hour.

"Apparate there, check if there's a baby in the house, and report back," he orders, and makes the picture float.

"Tilly will!"

"Don't be seen."

She pops away with a scowl.

Regulus waits.

And waits.

Lord Black wanders in the office, cleanly shaven and well-dressed, looking rested and severe. Regulus wonders what time it is now, and why Tilly is taking so long for a simple task.

"Where are the elves?" the old man asks, aware of his grandson's presence because the papers are still floating.

 _Sonorus_ doesn't work, but the will to be heard does, when it comes to communication. Regulus casts it on himself and tells him what he asked of Tilly.

"Every elf is missing-"

Just as Arcturus' rant starts, a male elf as old as Kreacher appears and bows until his crooked nose touches the floor.

"Master Lord Black Sir! Tilly is saying sorry, but Tilly is not sorry, so Moppy is saying sorry, and is very sorry."

"Out with it!" The old man snarls.

Moppy twists his fingers until the joints pop.

"All the elves are helping Tilly, Master Lord Black Sir! They is setting up the nursery-"

Regulus' eyebrows rise to his hairline and he shimmers into view for the elf. It's exhausting, but needed.

"Little Master!" Moppy gasps.

"What have you done?" Arcturus bites, but he's not talking to Regulus.

"Tilly be calling the elves for help. Moppy be going to see what Tilly is wanting. Moppy and the other elves are seeing a Mini Master. The Black Family Magic recognises him. Tilly is not wanting to leave Mini Master with the evil Muggles, no she is not, so Moppy tells Mippy, Wibbly, Sappy and Frippy to prepare the nursery for Mini Master. Moppy will go iron his ears now."

Regulus is still stuck on the fact that the ancestral magic of their bloodline recognises an outsider just because his brother is his godparent. Yet, Arcturus has gone past the shock and is focusing on another detail. Moppy is ordered not to hurt himself.

"Are you telling me these Muggles are abusing a Wizarding child?" he asks softly. There's a light in his eyes that reminds Regulus of the thing-under-the-bed. He takes a step back as magic wells in the room. Arcturus is powerful, and when he lets his strength leak, he's terrifying.

Moppy nods so quickly that his face is a blur.

"When Tilly is finding him, Mini Master is alone in a playpen. He is dirty and hungry and hurt. He is not crying, but he is scared. Tilly says the evil Muggles put Mini Master there and leave him alone. Tilly says Mini Master was in the cupboard under the stairs when Tilly arrived."

It's only decades of control that allow Arcturus to keep everything intact around him if Regulus trusts the vibrations in the air. He feels like he is back in the lake with the Inferi. He's cold, and everything is dark.

And then Tilly pops back into the office, carrying a toddler with the most brilliant green eyes Regulus has ever seen, and he feels free again.

He ignores his grandfather and the elves who suddenly crowd the small room. He can only watch as little Harry blinks and focuses on him, reeking of house elf cleaning magic and clutching Tilly's neck.

The baby sees him even though he is back to his ordinarily invisible self. Regulus kneels - he could lower himself through the floor, but he finds it undignified - and smiles, but there's something strange going on. He feels a familiar pull towards him, and he doesn't like the way it makes him want to run away.

Harry is too scared to do more than quietly follow his movements, barely turning his head. He's shaking.

"Tilly be bringing Mini Master to the nursery now," Tilly says, not awaiting orders. "Then Tilly be punishing herself, but Tilly be healing Mini Master first."

Arcturus pinches the bridge of his nose and orders the other elves to go back to work.

0-o-0

This is not part of the plan. Regulus is at a loss and watches the work of the healer who treated the Black children for decades and was sworn to secrecy under penalty of death. There's a scroll on the floor, where Arcturus threw it earlier before storming out in anger. The ghost knows what it contains, and he feels sick.

Harry Potter has been severely neglected. His magic would perhaps prevent his death in the near future if he stays with his current guardians, but Regulus believes it's unlikely.

The scroll doesn't list physical abuse and broken bones, but it shows starvation. From what Tilly reported to the healer, it seems that the Dursleys made him sleep in a cupboard, on a mattress soaked with the child's body fluids as they did not change his diaper often enough. Harry has an infected diaper rash, and his attitude is worrying. It looks like he learned how to suppress his emotions: crying, even whimpering, probably had consequences he's afraid of. Getting locked in the cupboard for long periods of time, in the dark, is likely.

Because Harry can see him, Regulus reigns in his anger. The healer cleans the child and applies lotion on his rash before dressing him in a very old white pyjama brought by an elf. He leaves to speak with Arcturus, while Tilly stays next to the crib she just took out of storage. Harry is still tense.

The ghost moves towards him and once again kneels to be at eye-level with the child through the crib's bars.

"Hi little one. I'm Regulus. Are you hungry?"

He has no idea why this is the first thing he said, but he figures it's a good idea when the baby nods very faintly, his eyes shining. Smiling, the dead man rises and picks the baby up, then freezes briefly. Harry was touched by Death, and Regulus can feel his warmth, and the grip of his tiny fingers. He can even smell the lotion on him, and it's overwhelming, after such a long time without using his nose. He doesn't remember if he could also smell the Thestrals.

He also realises why he feels this strange pull towards him, and hopes he's wrong, but for now, the kid needs to eat.

He carries him downstairs and finds a high chair at the table, with a bowl of chicken soup. Good. The elves are usually overdoing it, and Harry can't eat anything substantial for now.

The toddler is reluctant to be separated from him, even if the way he acts betrays how scared he is: he doesn't let himself relax, doesn't lean on Regulus. He stays very still in his arms, his tiny fists closed around the ghostly robe Regulus wishes he could change. A small whimper escapes him when he's sat in the chair.

He's given food by Tilly because Regulus can't touch the spoon. While he eats, carefully, as if he was used to seeing his meals taken from him too soon, he continues to stare at the ghost.

When the bowl is empty, the tension in his tiny body slowly leaves, until a shy voice speaks up, rough with lack of use.

"Pafut?"

Regulus feels his heart swell and break at the same time. He doesn't speak Baby, but Harry is pointing at him, eyes full of hope, and he can hazard a guess.

"I don't know who Pafut is, Harry. My name is Regulus, remember?"

"Egu?"

He smiles.

"Regulus," he tries again.

"Egg!"

He chokes back laughter and wonders how he would have reacted to his nickname being "Egg" when he was a stuck-up little Pureblood prince. Harry finally grins, and Regulus thinks he can do this. With the elves' help, he can raise him properly. It's scary, but when he takes him into his arms again and feels him snuggle against him, he decides he'll protect him. He's not sure how. It doesn't matter. Right now, Harry managed to forget the past few months, even if it's only for a minute or two, and it makes Regulus suspiciously happy.

As he carries the child back upstairs, he wonders if Pafut is Sirius. It makes sense.

The elves are all gathered in the nursery. It's a crowd of giant blinking eyes that look startled. It must indeed be strange to see a baby being held by nothing.

"Mini Master!" they all whisper, and scatter.

Harry looks around curiously. The room has been decorated, thankfully not in typical Black fashion: Regulus spies a few toys he and Sirius received from people their parents did not approve of. On the rare occasions where they slept over at their grandfather's home, they smuggled a few of them out of Grimmauld Place, to prevent their mother from destroying them. Arcturus never cared about what they were playing with.

There's a collection of owl plushies of all shapes and sizes in a basket; enchanted wooden blocks with letters and colours that light up when words are spelt correclty; a series of age-appropriate books; a baby broom; and several games to help with a child's reflexes and coordination. The faeries catcher was Regulus' favourite because the faeries looked so real. The crib is surrounded by small dots of light that, in the dark, will look like stars. A brown fluffy cobra plushie awaits on the sheets. The design on his hood emit a gentle gold glow.

It's new and was created by magic. The ghost can feel who made it and when, and he smirks. Arcturus will never admit it.

As soon as he puts Harry in the crib, the baby's eyes fall on it, and he quietly squeals in delight before reverently holding it against his body. The snake is almost as long as Harry is tall. Regulus still plans on telling his grandfather that this is probably going to be Harry's most prized possession for years to come.

"Hawwy's?" the toddler asks, emerald eyes locked on Regulus once more. Another squee when the ghost nods.

Putting him to bed doesn't require any effort: the tyke is exhausted. The windows darken with house elf magic, the little stars shine, and Tilly appears to help make Harry comfortable. Regulus is reluctant to leave him alone and asks Tilly to stay and watch over him. He knows Harry will wake up scared and he wants to be there for him when that happens.

He leaves the door open and joins his grandfather in the study. He might be dead, but he still feels emotionally drained.

Arcturus looks at him in the mirror.

"This is not how this day was supposed to go," he drawls.

"I won't apologise for sending Tilly over there."

"Of course not."

"Harry will be alright," Regulus offers. He wants to mention the cobra but decides against it.

"Such a common name," the old man replies with a sneer.

"We are not changing it. What are you going to do?"

"It's time for the Wizarding World to remember why they once feared us. Our mistakes will be erased. Be ready, Grandson."


	4. Lord Black Returns

Harry starts using more words on the second day. Regulus is still worried that he's going to be a late bloomer. Speech has been discouraged since November after all, and the progress he made with his parents could have been entirely erased. He doesn't use sentences, but most of his words are easy to understand. Or it's just because Regulus is a natural with babies, according to Tilly, which the ghost vehemently denies.

The elves and the ghost come to an agreement where nobody leaves the tyke out of their sight at any point until they are sure he isn't going to panic.

The toy cobra is continuously in Harry's arms or being gnawed on. A charm was cast on it to repel saliva and germs, so it's always dry and soft no matter what the little one puts it through. Regulus thinks Harry named it Ssssss, or perhaps it's just how he says "snake". The way he pronounces it, and the way he talks to it, sometimes sounds eerily like Parseltongue, which Regulus scoffs at. The Dark Lord made him paranoid.

By the fifth day, Harry has a favourite story, which he makes the elves or Regulus read over and over again before bed (Regulus swears if he weren't dead, he would be dreaming of Sparkles the Niffler every night). He doesn't fuss when it's bath time if Tilly summons bubbles, and barely has any trouble falling asleep. He's fascinated by the little stars, and once got stuck headfirst in the owl basket. He eats everything he's given: a blessing which will not last, once his trauma is behind him. He's quiet and just a little bit messy, and struggles to walk, an ability hindered by the Dursleys. But he's happy already. Regulus sees it all the time in the way his eyes light up and shine. He's clingy, affection-starved, and determined to earn praise.

Arcturus now has company every time he visits the greenhouses and gardens because Harry isn't fazed by the man's icy gaze and demeanour. At first, the kid is ignored, until the old wizard gets annoyed and starts teaching him about plants. Harry doesn't really understand him, but he seems to enjoy looking at them and trying to repeat their names. Regulus lurks nearby but doesn't ever need to take Harry away.

He's sure these moments are secretly treasured by his Grandfather.

On the first Monday of July, a week after Tilly kidnapped the boy, Arcturus finds out about Lucius Malfoy's plea. The claim of being Imperiused sees him walk free, and enrages the old man, who storms out of the manor through the Floo while Regulus tries to convince Harry to stop nibbling on his toy so he can eat something for breakfast.

The next day, the Daily Prophet is delivered as usual just as Tilly places Harry in the high wooden chair at the table. Floating behind the baby, Regulus glances at the newspaper and smirks, then pulls on the air around the table to flip the pages.

**LORD BLACK RETURNS**

**Sirius Black's Farce of a Trial**

_By Septimus Smith_

_Following the trial of Lucius Abraxas Malfoy on July 4th (covered in yesterday's edition by Sarah Bunyip), the Wizarding World breathed a sigh of relief as the last remnants of the war finally vanished. As the wrongfully accused Lord Malfoy was released from custody, the Wizengamot met to discuss the end of several measures taken during the conflict against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Open to the public, this session promised little excitement, and very few civilians were in attendance._

_Several members of the government having been recently cleared of charges related to the war, most Houses were represented, with the notable exceptions of the Lestrange and Black seats: the Lestrange brothers are convicted Death Eaters, and the Black seat has stood empty for years._

_But this, dear readers, was about to change!_

_Just as the Chief Warlock stood, the doors opened again, and Lord Black himself appeared, looking just as impressive as we remembered in his billowing black robes, clasped with silver snakes. The crest of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black etched on the unoccupied seat, glowed green as it recognised its Lord's magic._

_Born in 1901, Lord Arcturus Black III, Order of Merlin, First Class, disappeared from the public eye in 1976 but did not pass his title to his son Orion, who died in 1979. He was known for being ruthless, uncompromising, and a skilled fighter in his youth. He left his seat vacant for reasons that we, here at the Daily Prophet, have yet been unable to discover. As the patriarch of the most well-known Dark-aligned family in Western Europe, there were rumours that he was asked to finance You-Know-Who's campaign, and refused. Did he go into hiding to protect his assets, or to avoid choosing a side in the war? Perhaps his health was declining? We hope to find out._

_The Chief Warlock had to call order as whispers and frantic movements came from the gallery, and the Lords of the Wizengamot stared in awe or fear. Lord Black walked to his seat between Lord Nott and Lord Yaxley, both recently cleared of Death Eaters activities, and looked at each of the Lords and Ladies, his features schooled in a neutral expression._

_The session went on until Lord Black stood once more and let me tell you, it seemed like an instant Silencio was cast upon us all._

_What Lord Black said next shocked the audience: when would his Heir, Sirius Orion Black, be tried, and why wasn't he currently held in Auror custody?_

_Sirius Black is a convicted Death Eater who betrayed Lily and James Potter to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, leading to their death on October 31st, 1981, then murdered Peter Pettigrew and 12 Muggles with a single curse. He has been in Azkaban since November 2nd, 1981. His trial was immediate and expedited as he pleaded guilty to all charges. It was not open to the public._

_Following Lord Black's question, the Chief Warlock gave him the date of his Heir's trial, but it did not satisfy him: he demanded to see a transcript. Bartemius Crouch, Head of Magical Law Enforcement, sputtered, red-faced, then stood up and yelled "How dare you pretend that You-Know-Who's right-hand man could be anything but guilty? He's not even worthy of feeding Dementors! He'll rot until his death!"_

_His impropriety caused an outrage among the Houses, and by the time the Chief Warlock gained control of the room once more, we learned the truth:_

_There is no transcript._ _**Sirius Black's trial was a lie!** _ _Bartemius Crouch's career might be at an end._

_Aurors have now been sent to retrieve the infamous mass-murderer. What will his fate be? Will he be Kissed? Will he go back to live out the rest of his days between the walls of Azkaban? Or will he be executed through the Veil, like so few have been throughout our History? Never fear, dear readers, for we will be ready to give you the results in great details._

_Sirius Black's trial is scheduled for July 29th._

_Septimus Smith, Daily Prophet_

_For a brief history of the Black Family, see page 9 to 11._

_For more information about the Death Eaters trials, see page 23._

Little Harry doesn't approve of the Daily Prophet and soon smears his breakfast all over a moving picture of Minister Bagnold.

0-o-0

It is a complete surprise when the Lestrange vault reveals its secrets: Helga Hufflepuff's cup is a Horcrux. Regulus is delighted. Arcturus seized the vault as there are no more Lestrange left to claim it, and the Black name has primacy over the Lestrange since they entered into a marriage contract with Bellatrix. Regulus is now sure that Lucius Malfoy is in possession of another monstrosity: he remembers when both he and Bella were asked to stay behind with him after a meeting. It was the day Regulus volunteered Kreacher's assistance with the locket.

He knows he will have to tread carefully: there's a time and a place to get into Malfoy Manor, and today is not the day.

No, today is Harry Potter's second birthday, and an innocent Sirius is coming home from a brief stay at St. Mungo's.

Regulus stays close to his grandfather after they leave Gringotts. He has trouble with his corporeal form: he's visible quite often now, even to the human eye, and he can barely control it. Being close to a family member seems to help: he manages to keep from being seen until they both reach Sirius' room on the first floor, where he is being treated for exposition to Dementors. Healers, Nurses and visitors give them a wide berth in the corridors.

The room is facing East, and the morning light falls on the white sheets covering Sirius' legs. He's sitting on the mattress and watching a bird outside the window. The man's hair has been thoroughly washed, his scruffy beard is gone, and his skin looks healthier. He's too thin, and his hands are shaking. When he turns to look at his visitors, his haunted gaze is painful to see.

The door closes, and Regulus ceases any attempt to hide his presence. He smiles, and when his brother whispers his name, he teleports to his side instantly. Arcturus takes a seat, and just waits.

"R-Reg, you're real?" Sirius' asks, stunned. "I thought-"

He then realises who else is there, and nearly growls.

"Why is he here?"

Regulus steps aside. Their grandfather raises an eyebrow and calmly informs him of who, exactly, got him out of Azkaban. He was at the trial, but it's quite obvious that Sirius still thinks he was hallucinating.

"But, I'm disowned, why do you care?"

"You are no such thing. I have the final say. You are still my Heir."

A bark of sarcastic laughter, a shake of his head, and Sirius continues:

"You're joking. I want nothing to do with this family!"

"This is not for you to decide."

"Sirius," Regulus tries, before his brother's Gryffindor temperament makes itself known, "things have changed, you'll see."

"I won't see shit. I'm leaving, and I'm going to find my godson. I'll raise him myself!"

Regulus snickers. "Good, that means you're coming home."

"Wha-?"

Arcturus' thin lips are set in a straight line. "Your little godson is currently being looked after by an army of house elves. He wants to open his presents and would be quite disappointed if his "Pafut" didn't join him for a slice of birthday cake."

"How do you know this name- why-"

Regulus bites his lower lip in amusement. Sirius isn't angry, but he looks so bewildered it's rather funny. He leaves his bed so quickly he ends up on the floor but regains his composure and refuses any help to get dressed. He does still grimace at the clothes: Arcturus brought him brand-new robes from Twilfitt and Tattling's, and they're everything he hates. The ghost admits that his brother looks dashing once dressed like a proper Pureblood Heir.

His healer is letting him leave because his Animagus form (now registered without penalty) prevented his mind from being damaged by Dementors, but with a strict regimen of potions to follow. Hopefully, his tremors will lessen after a few days of rest.

They walk to the Apparition point. Regulus goes ahead and pops back in the nursery at the manor, where Harry just woke up from his nap. The toddler is bleary-eyed, and his hair is sticking out in every possible direction. He gurgles and raises his little hands.

"Egg! Up!"

"Hi little one," Regulus replies, taking him into his arms. "I found Pafut. He's coming home!"

"Pafut home?"

He nods. Voices can now be heard from downstairs; Sirius doesn't sound happy, but he's not screaming at his grandfather at least. Regulus considers it safe enough and brings Harry to him.

Sirius loses his sneer (which made him look frighteningly like a young Arcturus), and his eyes well up with tears. Harry squeals and moves up and down, trying and failing to get away from Regulus' arms.

"Pafut! Pafut! Pafut!"

The ghost lets him go when his brother is holding him securely. He's surprised that Harry's memory of Sirius is so clear. The man is now openly weeping, both from joy and sorrow, and he can't stop peppering the kid's head with kisses. Regulus stays nearby just in case. Lord Black leaves them, muttering about Heirs being unable to keep their emotions in check.

"Why do you have him?" Sirius ends up asking after Harry asks to go back on the floor.

Regulus sighs.

"It's a long story, and I don't think now is a good time to talk about it. Let's get you settled in first."

Subdued, Sirius accepts and follows an elf to the Heir's quarters. When he comes back to the parlour, Tilly brings a pile of gifts for Harry, who is only too happy to destroy the shiny wrapping paper with unrestrained glee.

Sirius observes him quietly; Regulus knows then that his brother will be fine.


	5. Growing Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... actually updated this. Oo 
> 
> I went back and edited the previous chapters for spelling and grammar.

When Harry is 3, Sirius visits Privet Drive and “mistakenly” curses Vernon and Petunia Dursley with a combination of _confundus_ and the babbling hex. If they start boasting about how they treated their nephew to everyone, and if the cupboard under the stairs, mysteriously forgotten until now, is discovered by the authorities, it’s just a bonus. What’s more, Marge Dursley is found guilty of illegal dog breeding and considered wholly unsuitable for taking care of her nephew.

Dudley Dursley is placed with a couple who will take care of him and do their best to erase Petunia’s overindulgence. They have an adorable daughter and have more than enough love for another child.

At night, the house elves celebrate the success of their revenge.

Lord Black disappears from politics once again, but with his grandsons and a toddler in his home, he is unable to go back to his calm and lonely retirement. He still refuses every invitation from his family and strengthens his wards (one of his new additions kicks Regulus out of the house until he adjusts it to accept the ghost’s essence).

He spends most of his time teaching Harry about plants and potions and still pretends to be indifferent to his big emerald eyes and his overall cuteness.

Regulus can now use his wand correctly. It changes his existence, and death isn’t too frustrating anymore. There are spells he can’t grasp yet, but he’s happy enough with what he can do.

He spent the past year helping Sirius with Harry, to his brother's surprise and the child's delight. Harry now barely remembers why he’s scared of small, dark places, and he only rarely has nightmares. He is still shy around strangers.

The Daily Prophet gets wind of the story, and the wards’ efficiency is tested when a worried Albus Dumbledore decides to visit, uninvited. He ends up at St. Mungo, tries to dispute Sirius’ guardianship, and finds out that even as Chief Warlock when the Wizengamot is against him, he has no chance of winning. It’s not a surprise to Regulus when they start receiving random play dates invitations from families who would typically do their best to avoid anyone with direct Black blood.

It takes a long time to convince Sirius that letting Harry go to the Weasleys’ home for the afternoon is a terrible idea; they are too firmly in Dumbledore’s pocket. They don’t see the point of getting to know the Diggorys: little Cedric is at an age where a three-year-old will only be an annoyance. They consider the Patils, Abbotts and Bones. Perhaps later, when Harry’s slightly more confident. 

When they eventually get a letter from Augusta Longbottom, it’s a surprise. She has made her hatred of their family quite clear, but as far as Regulus knows, she is not a Dumbledore supporter.

Harry makes his first friend at Longbottom Manor. Little Neville reminds Regulus of Harry a year ago, and he doesn’t like it. He stays around, invisible, while the children learn to play together quietly, and he observes and listens. Neville lives with his grandmother and his Uncle Algie. 

Instead of loving him and taking care of him, both individuals are obsessed with his lack of accidental magic. Regulus remembers how his parents talked about squibs, and it surprises him to find the same intolerance within a supposedly Light family. If there’s one thing Regulus has learned in death, it’s that magical ability doesn’t define someone’s worth. Squibs are magical; they just don’t have enough magic to use it actively. 

Hating squibs makes the Longbottoms no better than the Dark Lord.

It’s a nasty blow to Dumbledore, and a shock to the wizarding world when Algernon Longbottom is sent to Azkaban for attempted murder and Augusta’s guardianship over her grandson is revoked. Little Neville will never again be nearly drowned into the pond behind the greenhouses of Longbottom Manor to test his magic.

He is placed with the Diggorys, which means that Harry gets to know Cedric anyway, and Cedric is a good kid who loves his new brother and thinks Harry is brilliant for his age - not that much of an annoyance, really. The three of them become close enough that Harry sometimes cries when it’s time to go home. It breaks Regulus and Sirius’ heart. 

But Harry still loves them more.

Regulus thinks he’s old enough to start learning an instrument. Sirius wants him to play the guitar, but both the ghost and Arcturus refuse. They buy him a violin. Harry loves it. His guardians’ ears, not so much.

As time goes by, Sirius teaches him to read and write; the elves focus on manners and Pureblood culture, Arcturus continues his unofficial forays into the world of herbology and even ventures into potions. So far, Harry is more interested in making his potions explode, but Regulus sees potential in his methods. The child understands how to create explosions, which means he knows how ingredients interact with each other. The Black men are ecstatic.

Regulus teaches him History and Latin. When Harry asks about magic, his godfather is more than happy to get him a practice wand, and Harry keeps it a secret. He never tells Neville or Cedric that he is slowly working his way through the Hogwarts curriculum before his fifth birthday.

It’s 1985 when his violin teacher moves back to France. The only other wizard who is acceptable for Arcturus' standards is too busy for one-on-one lessons. He asks if Harry can share. The ghost and his grandfather decide to welcome his other student to Black Manor and keep it from Sirius until the child arrives with his mother. His expression when he realises who is about to be introduced to Harry is priceless, and Regulus will cherish it.

Draco Lucius Malfoy is a spoiled but lonely brat. He looks a lot like his mother and has enormous grey eyes. Regulus thinks he’s one of the cutest kid he has ever seen, but Harry is still cuter. His temper tantrums are not sweet, however, and Harry isn’t impressed by them. When little Draco finds out that his ghostly cousin, and especially his great-grand-uncle, aren’t yielding to his demands, he pouts for a while. Things get better then.

Harry and Draco are not friends at first. One day, Narcissa visits alone, talks to Arcturus, and the next time Draco comes over, he has a practice wand too. Harry didn't hide his wand well enough.

The children develop a friendship now that they can learn magic together - it turns out, unsurprisingly, that little Draco was jealous. They get better at violin too and start to perform simple duets. The sound is beautiful. Sirius doesn’t need to use earmuffs anymore.

Regulus is too busy to keep up with politics. He knows Dumbledore regained the influence he lost with the Longbottom scandal and that too many Death Eaters are running the government, but he only has two things in mind: making sure Harry is happy and getting rid of the Dark Lord’s Horcruxes.

When he loses track of time because the Gaunt shack is a maze of nonsensical magic that manages to confuse him immensely, he’s heartbroken: he missed a year of Harry’s life.

It takes a long time for the child to trust him again: Harry thinks Regulus will leave him. He becomes clingy. Regulus doesn’t mind so much. He missed holding him close.

1987, 1988 and 1989 see numerous attempts at influencing him: Dumbledore tries, over and over again, to sic the Weasleys on him. Harry meets Ronald at the Diggorys while Cedric is at Hogwarts. Neville and Harry work together in the greenhouses because they enjoy plants, and the redhead doesn’t understand why they won’t just play Quidditch with him. 

Harry doesn’t like sport that much. He loves flying, not chasing after a small golden ball or avoiding bludgers. Sirius is devastated, and Ronald decides that there is no chance they’ll ever be friends.

It seems to Regulus that Harry doesn’t care much. He likes Neville and Draco. They seem to be enough for him. 

 

0-o-0

 

Regulus comes across another Horcrux by accident. He knows he shouldn’t follow his grandfather everywhere, knows how impolite eavesdropping is, but now that he can control how visible he is, he feels he must stick his nose where it doesn’t belong. It’s about Harry’s survival, after all. The world’s, too, but Regulus isn’t too bothered by other people anymore. 

Lucius Malfoy, opportunist extraordinaire who somehow managed to take over the government by whispering in the Minister’s ear and donating Galleons to the right causes, wishes to invite Harry over for a joint birthday party. Sirius makes a strange whine deep in his throat when he learns of it but is swayed by Harry’s puppy eyes - they’re irresistible. At nearly nine years old, Harry is still adorable but has a devious streak that Arcturus is quite proud of. He’s a Slytherin in the making, and Sirius blames both his brother and grandfather for it. Regulus still believes he’ll end up in Ravenclaw, but it’s becoming harder to be sure of it.

Regulus and Harry coax a reluctant approval out of the dog Animagus, and now the ghost is floating behind his grandfather in Malfoy Manor, unseen and unheard, while Arcturus and Lucius review the guests' list. Unwilling to listen to Lucius’ arguments about the importance of extending an invitation to the Bulstrode and Parkinson girls, he leaves the older men to themselves and roams the corridors.

Malfoy Manor hasn’t changed one bit. He remembers the endless Yule balls he was forced to attend with the shadow of the Dark Lord looming over the festivities; he cherishes the memory of Sirius, already rebelling yet capable of using his Slytherin upbringing to disguise insults into compliments. If Voldemort had been raised in a Pureblood home, he would have noticed. Luck was on Sirius’ side that night, or the Dark Lord would have killed him. Regulus certainly thought their mother would end her son’s life upon returning home. Now that the scene replays in his mind, the ghost smiles.

He doesn’t mean to enter the library, but he’s glad he did. Something shimmers in the corner of his eye. 

A book. The pull is unmistakable. He was right, all those years ago, when he suspected the presence of a soul shard in this house. Does Lucius even know what he left on his shelves? Draco could easily grab it. Regulus finds many faults in the older man, but he is a good father, so he must not have realised what Voldemort had entrusted him with.

The little black book sits innocently between an original copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ and _Magic of the Stars_. It’s a miracle that a curious little boy hasn’t touched it yet. Regulus levitates the book until he can grab it, the evil within pulsing malevolently, so much more potent than the locket. In the blink of an eye, he is back at Black Manor and locking the Horcrux away, pacing back and forth until his grandfather comes home.

He hears Harry and Sirius playing outside and lets out a slow, unnecessary breath. He’ll prevent the child from entering this room if it’s the last thing he does. 

The danger of keeping Horcruxes under the same roof becomes apparent when Tom Riddle’s diary starts to emit a light mist that forms a human shape. Thankfully, Arcturus is there to witness it. The book is feeding on the cup, ring and diadem and the inherent dark magic from the grounds of the Manor helps it. It’s the same reason why  the thing-under-the-bed existed in the first place when they were kids: corrupted wild magic sometimes has a mind of its own.

Arcturus, master of the ground they walk on, can generally control it. This time, however, they need Sirius, and the Animagus is furious when he’s told that fragments of Voldemort’s soul are living in close quarters to Harry. 

Regulus doesn’t mention that Harry’s scar means the Horcruxes recognise him as a brother of sorts and that he is in no danger, as long as he doesn’t touch them. 

He’s more than relieved when Fiendfyre, fully controlled in an impressive display of power, destroys them forever. Now, all he needs is to get into Grimmauld Place and find a way to remove the Dark Lord's soul from Harry's body.

**Author's Note:**

>  ** _Find me here:_**  
>  Twitter: [@FuzzyJawa](https://twitter.com/FuzzyJawa)  
> Tumblr: [PenguinAnimagus](https://penguinanimagus.tumblr.com/)


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